December 2012 CW Short Story entry. “THE MAN FROM HQ.”

Miss Clements ushered the visitor into the office and seated him across the desk from her boss.
“Mr. Gabriel to see you sir, from our Holborn headquarters”.
“Thank you Miss Clements, perhaps Mr Gabriel would like some tea”
“Thank you, no” said Gabriel, “this is very much a flying visit”.
Jerome Fotheringay, branch manager of Allingham’s
Canterbury department store, bustled from around the desk with outstretched hand.
“Welcome to our store Mr. Gabriel, and to what do we owe the pleasure of your company … there are no problems I trust?”
“Most certainly not” replied Gabriel shaking hands warmly before resuming his seat.
Fotheringay eased himself back into his executive swivel chair and with index fingers to pursed lips, he viewed his visitor apprehensively across steeple hands.
Gabriel, primly upright and completely at his ease, brushed imaginary dust from his immaculate razor creased pin-striped trousers. Aiming a steady and disconcertingly beauteous smile in the managers direction, he spoke with quiet authority.
“I apologise for not giving you advance warning of my visit Mr. Fotheringay, and we at HQ do realise that this is rather short notice, but it was thought best that I come to see you personally to inform you of our store plans for the Christmas period”.

Jerome Fotheringay, relaxed slightly and breathed an invisible sigh of relief. Headquarters had no right to send people down unannounced, but if it was only a matter of the Christmas arrangements that had prompted the visit, he was ahead of the game.
Protocol required him to hear the man out and pay lip service to his suggestions, but he would rid himself of this unwanted guest as soon as decency allowed.
The manager leaned back in his chair and beamed at his visitor.
“That’s quite alright Mr. um-er, Gabriel, just what is it that I can do for you”, he cooed.
“I’ll come straight to the point,” said Gabriel sweetly, “it’s about the Christmas Grotto arrangements”.
Jerome’s beam faded momentarily, but he remained silent.
He had already lined up his brother-in-law play the role of Father Christmas “cash in hand”, and even as they spoke, other junior family members were being measured for their elf costumes.
This, and the construction of the grotto, the responsibility of his wife’s cousin, was a cosy annual arrangement that had developed into a nice little yuletide earner for the Fotheringay family.
Mr Gabriel, appearing not to notice the cloud sweeping the managers face, continued unperturbed.
“We have made a corporate decision to award an area-wide contract to a company new in this field. They are to provide the Christmas facilities throughout all our stores. You will be required only to provide suitable space at the rear of the store on the ground floor with direct access to the car park, and to give them every help during the fortnight that they will be here”.
As Jerome struggled to come to terms with this bombshell, Gabriel rose to his feet, reached down for his briefcase, beamed his beauteous smile and stretch out his hand.
“And that’s it Mr. Fotheringay”, he smoothed, “You are a busy man so I won’t detain you any longer … I’ll advise our chairman Mr. Allingham Jnr., that he can count on your full support”.
Jerome, stunned into silence, allowed Gabriel to take his hand in a warm grip, and before he realised it the man from HQ had wafted away and was gone.
A deflated Jerome slumped back into his chair …
“Sod, sod, sod it!”, he cursed.
His little Christmas earner had just gone up in smoke.

Mr Jerome’s blistering finger on buzzer brought Miss Clements hurrying into the office. Her boss was not amused and his manner was unusually brusque …
“Sit down Miss Clements, we need to make some urgent changes to our Christmas plans”.
She sat on the chair so recently vacated by Gabriel and was pleasantly surprised at the all-consuming warmth from the seat. Scribbling to Mr. Jerome’s instructions, by the time he had finished his instructions she was positively glowing.
Her boss’s nepotistic little earner had been nobbled and her work-load in the run up to Christmas lightened. A few phone calls would pass the responsibility for the grotto from her shoulders and onto those of others and it was a happy Miss Clements who finally rose to leave.
But a still tetchy Fotheringay stopped her in her tracks …
“ Miss Clements, kindly attend to your skirt”.
She followed the line of his pointing finger to the rear of her pencil skirt where three small white feathers clung to the black fabric. She removed them carefully, and noticing two more on the back of the chair that she had so recently vacated, scooped them all tightly into her balled fist.
She tripped from the room every bit as light as the feathers in her hand.
**************************************************************************

Five days passed, during which time Mr. Jerome’s mood darkened daily.
A succession of phone calls had passed on the bad news to his relatives, and the lines had burned with recriminations. It was as well that he did not know that Miss Clements verbatim accounts of the calls had spread throughout the store.
And his dignity was dealt a further blow when, whilst personally checking one evening that the rear access was clear for the incomers, he had tripped over in the darkness and fallen into the basement stairwell, fracturing his ankle.
To the delight of the whole staff, from floorwalkers to the flower seller in the foyer, he would be confined to his office until further notice, hobbling on crutches.

A corner had been cleared on the ground floor for the grotto, and from his office window overlooking the rear car park, Jerome had a clear view of the rear entrance. The grotto would be open for two weeks only, one week before Christmas and one week after. The store would remain open until 5 pm Christmas eve, and with the sales starting at 9am on Boxing day, the store would be closed for one day only. But with only a few days to go before the grotto was to be opened to the public, there had been no signs of any activity at the rear entrance.
Turning from the window, Jerome hobbled painfully to his desk and jabbed furiously at his intercom.
“Yes Mr Jerome”, came the dulcet tones of Miss Clements.
“Can you come in right away please?”
“Certainly Mr. Jerome”.
Seconds later Jaqueline was comfortably seated before her frowning boss.

“I think that it is about time I had a proper update on the grotto situation Miss Clements, you’ve told me that all is well but I have not seen any activity at all yet. If it wasn’t for this damned ankle I’d be down there myself. Just what is going on?”
Jaqueline smiled, opened her copious folder, and read from her notes.
“All the preparatory work has been completed, generally during the night after the store closes, the stable setting is in place, less the straw and animals, Josef and Marie are arriving by donkey tomorrow, and Mr Gabriel will take up residence this evening. The twelve followers will be ….”
“Just a minute Miss Clements”, Jerome interrupted impatiently, “straw, donkeys, followers, and what’s all this about Gabriel, do you mean that he is in store?”
Jaqueline’s eyes drifted towards the overflowing “In-tray” on Fotheringay’s desk,
“Mr Gabriel will be present throughout the two week period, sir. It’s all in the reports in your tray Mr Jerome”.
“I haven’t bothered to read all that bumf”, he blustered, “what’s the point of having people in if I’ve got to read about their every move”.
“It’s all in there sir”, said Jaqueline, nodding to the tray, “Mr. Gabriel is hosting the presentation …”
“Hosting! Hosting! You mean that he’s playing Father Christmas?”
“Not exactly Mr. Jerome … there is no Father Christmas” replied Jaqueline quietly, already flinching at the outburst that she knew would follow”.
“NO BLOODY FATHER CHRISTMAS !!!!!!”
“No sir, but please let me explain …”
“EXPLAIN! EXPLAIN! I want to see Gabriel here right now … immediately!”
It was only his fractured ankle that stopped Fotheringay from hopping.
“I will see if he is free to come up” Jaqueline said quietly.
“Too damned right he’ll come up” spluttered Jerome, “tell him that if he’s not here in five minutes I’ll be on to HQ”.
Miss Clements, though scurrying was not her strong point, scurried off like a gold medallist!
*********************************************************************************************

“You wished to see me Jerome?”
Gabriel materialised before Jerome had even realised that he had entered the room.
Shuffling furiously through his “in-tray” with his back to the door, Jerome started so violently that he all but fell over. Turning painfully to face the newcomer he sank back onto the edge of his desk in amazement.
Before him was Gabriel … or was it?
It looked vaguely like him, but gone were the immaculate pin-striped trousers and black jacket, and in their place was a long flowing white gown gathered at the waist with a braided belt loosely tied. His hair was shoulder length and straight, and a wispy beard adorned his chin. His face, oddly weathered, simply radiated peace and understanding.
Jerome’s fury melted like snow before the morning sun.

“Ah! Gabriel old chap, so good of you to come up, please take a pew”.
‘A pew?’, mused Jerome, I’ve never used that expression before in all my life.
Gabriel slipped out of his sandals, and knelt on the carpet.
“Is there a problem Jerome?” he enquired solicitously.
“No, no, old chap, but I thought you might like to update me on how the er-um grotto is going” squirmed Jerome.
“ Wonderfully well”, smoothed Gabriel, “but then there was never any doubt that it would”.
“Tell me about it” wheedled Jerome, “Please!”
“But you will see for yourself … tomorrow, I insist” said Gabriel airily,
“Arrange for your good lady to drop you at the rear entrance and I shall see to it that you are given a tour of the stable.”
“But perhaps you can inform me why there is …” said Jerome plaintively.
“Until tomorrow then!” interrupted Gabriel and left quietly and quickly, leaving only a solitary white feather floating in the still air.
******************************************************************************

When Mrs. Fotheringay drove her husband into the rear car park the following morning, Gabriel and an identically garbed young man awaited them. Helping Jerome into a wheel-chair, Gabriel smiled and introduced the young man as … “Mark, one of my followers”.
Jerome returned their smiles with a sickly grimace.

Once inside the building, a further eleven white robed young “followers” were introduced by Gabriel, each one bowing gracefully.
Jerome, dazzled by the genuine warmth of their greeting, found himself overwhelmed by this obsequious reception and positively glowed with unexpected pleasure. On entering the stable setting his sense of well-being was complete … it was, as he later told his wife, “an amazing creation!”

Seated comfortably on a palliase in the straw was a man and a woman of middle eastern appearance. Gabriel introduced them as Josef and Marie, immigrant refugees who had arrived overnight from Dover.
“They have no work permits so they are working free in exchange for a roof over their heads”. Gabriel explained quietly.
As he was ushered past them and over to where a donkey was munching at a manger, Jerome reflected that the lady was padded in all the right places and he could not help but admire Gabriel’s attention to detail.
The walls of the stable were of real stone, and the subdued lighting was both effective and unobtrusive. To cap it all, from an alcove at the rear of the stable came the most angelic muted singing that Jerome had ever heard.
Gabriel smiled his most serene smile …“My heavenly choir”, he purred.

By the time that he had been escorted up to his office ten minutes later by John and Matthew, another two of the team of followers, he had been completely won over.
Miss Clements was amazed at the change that had come over her boss since last night.
It lasted for precisely fifteen minutes.

She jumped in her chair in response to a shout from the inner office …
“Miss Clements, come in here immediately!”
As she entered the office, Jerome, standing by the window, beckoned to her.
“Sit down please, this is all too good to be true, I need to know more!”
Jaqueline sighed. It was going to be a long day.
And Jerome made sure that it was.
***********************************

The first week of the Christmas period passed quickly.
Fotheringay fretted daily, but takings were high, the store was full to overflowing, and the stable presentation was a huge success.
To Jerome’s amazement no one questioned the lack of a Father Christmas, there were non-stop queues for the stable tableau, and every adult and child who attended left with a smile on their face, a slice of pizza, and a beaker of lemonade.

On Christmas eve, Jerome called Jaqueline into his office for her customary present, (of Mrs. Fotheringay’s choosing, a silver plated tea-pot for one!).
The pleasantries over, Jerome said suddenly,
“Please sit down, Miss Clements, and tell me why you think that Gabriel and the stable is so successful”.
Jaqueline pondered for a moment …
“I believe it’s because it is so authentic”, she said.
“Gabriel and his followers are wonderful with the children, and they all love the animals, although personally I would have liked to have seen a pig or two, but Gabriel wouldn’t hear of it. There is no entrance fee, yet everyone leaves with present of pizza and lemonade”.
“Ah, the pizza!” said Jerome, “It comes from the food hall I believe, who pays for that?”
“Mr. Gabriel sir, but he is confident that the five pizzas and two bottles of lemonade that he’s already purchased will easily last for the fortnight and he doesn’t anticipate requiring more”.
“Really!”, said Jerome, “Amazing!”
Which matched Jaqueline’s sentiments exactly.

Twenty minutes later, Jaqueline was pushing Jerome across the car-park to where Mrs F. was waiting with the car.
“Come along Jerry”, said Mrs. F. “Working till the last minute again”…
She pointed overhead to the lights of a passing aircraft.
“Perhaps one day you will take me away for Christmas like those lucky blighters up there”.
Jaqueline bid them farewell and walked to her car, musing to herself …
“Funny how planes sometimes seem to just hang motionless in the sky”.
************************************************************************

It was Boxing Day morning, and Mrs.F had to bulldoze her way through the crowds, such was the melee in the street outside the store. When Jerome finally reached his office, a flushed and exited Miss Clements ran to greet him.
“Isn’t it wonderful sir! A real baby, and on Christmas Day!”
Jerome stared blankly at his secretary.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“In the stable sir, Marie, she’s had a baby, a boy … Mr Gabriel is ecstatic!”
“Nonsense girl, get Gabriel up here now, and I’d like some tea please”.
Jerome hobbled into his office and closed the door behind him.
Almost before he reached his chair, Gabriel was helping him from his overcoat, yet again his prompt appearance so startled Jerome that he rapped his knee painfully against the chair …
“What wonderful news Jerome”, soothed Gabriel.
“Good God man, you frightened me half to death. What’s this nonsense about a baby?”
Fifteen minutes of charm later when Gabriel finally left the office, Jerome was again a changed man, beaming like a cherub.
***************************************************************************

The Christmas period had finally ended, and Mr. Gabriel, once again in business attire, was about to leave Jerome’s office after each had congratulated the other on a memorable fortnight.
“One last thing Jerome”, said Gabriel serenely, “in future remember that Father Christmas is but one of the myths abroad at this time of the year, and before I go, may I please inspect your ankle that has caused you such inconvenience in recent days”.
He dropped to his knees as Jerome swivelled his chair, and cupped his ankle in his warm hands.
“Oh dear, how swollen”, he purred, “ I pray that it will soon be better for you”.
He smiled up at Jerome and taking his hand, hauled himself to his feet.
“Now I will bid you goodbye Jerome” he said quietly, and before Fotheringay could reply, the door had once again closed behind him.
Jerome sat quietly for a minute or two, then fingered his buzzer to summon his secretary.
As she entered the room he said expansively,
“Please sit down er-um Jaqueline, we must get a report together for HQ whilst it is still fresh in our minds. This has been a most remarkable fortnight”.
Jaqueline could not but agree.
*******************************

Together they documented the success of the whole period.
The record takings, despite the fact that Josef, Marie, and the child left the store early on hearing that a Mr. Harrod from immigration was about to pay them a visit.
The furore following the birth, that saw quad bikes to-and-fro’ing as local farmers brought sheep to the stable.
And they had even had a visit of three Professors of Divinity from the local University, who arrived in a limo bearing gifts for the child.
All in all, a most unusual series of events.

After half an hour, Miss Clements stood up to go.
“I’ll type this up sir, and after you have signed it I’ll send it off, but I wonder whether we should mention Mr. Gabriel in the notes”, she said.
“Of course we should”, replied Jerome.
Miss Clements hesitated, then said.
“Only … I didn’t want to mention this before Mr. Jerome, but when I phoned HQ for his correct title, they said that they had no Mr. Gabriel at Allinghams”.
Fotheringay leapt from his chair, skipping athletically around the table.
Finally, pennies had dropped.
“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, profanely.
“Exactly”, muttered Jaqueline.